


a learning branch.

by beguileds



Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies), Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Gen, aka. its 3am and im drabbling because i hate the idea of them getting Nothing from the night raid, caspian doesnt know how to react, hostages and information aka edmund pevensie gets to do his damn job, the night raid was successful in one thing at least
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-20 22:44:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16564529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beguileds/pseuds/beguileds
Summary: caspian witnesses his first hostage, and leaves with more doubt than he entered with.or, edmund's hands shake after the throat was slit, and feels his childhood crumble twice over





	a learning branch.

perhaps the tales are true. these old monarchs are violent in their compassion, war-made and on the brink of another era. they ushered peace on the flat side of a blade, and they return with youthful skin and bruised knuckles to do it all again.

telmarine boy-prince, king to-be, raised soft and pliable with cruel teachings and aching heart watches. dark eyes wide, dark skin spattered with crimson and purple. just king, just-a-king, stands with his palm under lord’s chin, neck exposed, the dagger of valiance against foreign flesh. the queen who owns the blade is long gone, tending to narnian wounds with a cordial as red as her cloak. only justice and vengeance sit in this room. justice, vengeance and information.

silver-tongued words spill from the boy-king’s lips, and the lord that quivers beneath the inching blade concedes. is this how old narnia was gained? blood and metal and the soft eyes of children, steeled with purpose and love? it must have been, for the lord spills information and justice’s eyes close. his lips mumble, murmuring quiet prayer, until brown eyes gaze upon caspian, half-hidden behind pillar– and he advises him to turn away.

and perhaps the tales are true. caspian is just a boy, soft hearted. not yet the same metal as these monarchs in bodies too weak, too soft. the room feels warmer, and the echo in the chamber sounds like exhaling under bath water. a muted thump, and then, quiet as his voice, footsteps. in one hand there is a bloodied dagger, the other curved around soft cotton of caspian’s shoulder. edmund is soft-featured, and caspian cannot tell which brown upon skin is freckle and which is dried blood.

he knew he was there, his skin uncut and his heart bleeding. to watch a creature of a life quickly lost lose its own in a brutal way-- caspian's lip trembles. for narnia, he runs and disobeys. for his life, he keeps his teeth clenched. empty stomach attempts to digest this lesson in violence and separation. edmund's eyes are knowing, his hand calloused yet soft. he wonders, if demeanour can be taught like prayer. will he do this, when the crown is his? take lords and slit throats of those who wish people dead? edmund's eyes are glassy. did he ever get used to this? are those tears, or exhaustion? is this compassion?

“come on,” is he shaking? or is that the tremble down caspian’s spine? “we should use this. there’s no point in wasted death. we can bury him behind the how, when it's over.”

 _for all bodies feed the earth,_ cornelius had said, _and the just king, inheritor of the earth, would tend his tree-children with fresh supply each war and battle._


End file.
